


Mary

by Kaniner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaniner/pseuds/Kaniner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mary" means different things to the Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mary

“Mary” meant different things to the Winchesters.

 

For Dean, she was Mom. Mom meant pie, the crust cut off from his bread, and warm, safe hugs. Sometimes, he could hear the whispered memory singing “Hey Jude” as he was drifting off.

As time went on, that voice started to sound more and more like his own until he couldn’t remember her timbre at all.

He knew blonde hair, warmth and comfort, but, if he was honest, he only remembered her face from photos. The memories were dusty and faded.

Mom became a symbol for loss. She _was_ and he knew that life would never come again for him. She was acceptance.

This was his life. He would be a hunter until the very end.

 

 

For John, “Mary” only conjured thoughts of yellow eyes and a soul starved for vengeance.  

She was the burning focus to rid the world of Azazel and anything like him.

He loved his sons with all his heart. He didn’t like to admit it, but Mary would be furious with him for how he raised their sons in this life. Not only the hunting, but he wasn’t there for his boys. Not like a father should be. Sure, he clothed them. The money he gave them for food usually lasted long enough (Sam was always a slim child, but he was in denial if he didn’t see Dean’s weight fluctuate during his longer hunts).  They always had a roof over their head.

It was partially jealousy that caused his falling out with Bobby. Singer was the father figured they needed, that they deserved. After a month-long hunt, he was tempted to leave Sam there permanently.

John tried to raise them right, but at some point, they became his backup. He wasn’t too far removed to think of them as tools, but they were hunters first, his boys second.

He was too far into his depression and focused on revenge to be there emotionally. More than once, usually after a close call, he swore he’d get out. Keep his boys safe and take them away.

Then he’d get a tip about something nasty plaguing someone somewhere (there would _always_ be another something) and he’d find his resolve.

Mary would be avenged. That was all that mattered. Maybe then, he’d find peace.

 

 

Sam never knew Mary. He grew up with tales of her, saw the beautiful woman in the photos, but it was just stories.

He never knew what it was like to live in a permanent house. He had a strange longing for a home he never knew. It was confusing to miss something you never had, someone you never knew. All of his mourning for Mary is for what could have been.

He called her Mom, but it was just a title for a daydream. He never felt that connection, that love because he never knew her. He couldn’t ever tell Dean. Dean had real memories, an actual bond. It would always be a sore subject.

When he was younger, he’d always be fascinated watching mothers interact with their children. Had Mary held him like that? Did she “coo” and baby-talk, or talk to him normally? What sort of games would they play? What would it have been like, when he had bad dreams or was bullied in school, to run home and cry on her while she held him?

He tried not to resent his friends when they’d complain about their parents. “At least you have a mom,” he wanted to say on more than one occasion. He always bit his tongue.

Mary was his father’s mission, his brother’s guardian angel. For him? Well… Sam really couldn’t say.

 


End file.
